WOLSINGHAM, WEARDALE, SOUTH DURHAM.-A numerous and most respectable party of ladies and gentlemen met in Market Place, and held a soiree in honour of the bard of Coila -Mr. Lamb, formerly of Ayr, in the chair; Mr. John Davidson, jun., surgeon, master of ceremonies; and with music, songs, and readings from the works of the bard, a most happy night was spent, till "the wee short hour ayont the twal." two volumes of standard sermons, say to the late Mrs. Begg, the poet's sister:-" Your brother did more to reform the Church of Scotland than all the books that were ever published, or than all the sermons that were ever preached;" and let us hope that this night will produce many Mr. Cuthills amongst the Scotch clergy. I said his fame is this night creating an echo throughout the whole world, and I believe if we had a tube through this floor to the antipodes, at this hour of the night we might hear with deafening applause the memory of Burns. WOOLER.-The Centenary of Robert Burns, the immortal Scottish bard, was celebrated here in the Sun Inn Assembly Room, the house being filled on the occasion. Several of the songs of Burns were sung during the evening. The meeting separated, each to go home and dream of the beautiful and ever-enchanting scenes drawn by the immortal bard with his poetic pen. Mr. Dingwall, head master of Presbyterian Schools, supported right and left by Thomas Collier Walker, Esq., house governor, St. Luke's, London, Walter Shaw, Esq., parliamentary solicitor, Mr. Kirkwood, Quartermaster Armstrong, Royal Artillery, Mr. Vinicombe, Mr. Ferguson, Mr. Logan, Mr. Smith, Mr. Morgan, &c. The Vice Chairs were occupied by Mr. Campbell and Quartermaster Black, Royal Artillery, supported by Mr. Findlay, Mr. Adams, Mr. Muir, Mr. Jack, Mr. Wallace, Mr. Kelly, &c. The CHAIRMAN, in proposing the toast of the evening, said, It is twelve months to-night since most of us here present met to celebrate the marriage of Britain's eldest daughter, the Princess Royal, the flower of England-the first-fruits of our inestimable Queen, the best Sovereign that ever ruled over this or any other country; and to-night we are met to celebrate the Centenary of Scotland's son, the peasant poet, the prince of ploughmen. The pictures of Nature delineated by the ploughman bard in the simple and beautiful language of Scotland, and with a faithfulness unequalled in any age, has endeared him to the hearts of the people, WOOLWICH.-The Hundredth Anniverby whom his memory is worshipped as no other sary of the birth of Burns, was celebrated in mortal was ever worshipped before. I shall Woolwich, with a dinner at the Ship Hotel, now very briefly endeavour to show you what when about a hundred and fifty persons sat raised the mighty ire of one class against Scot-down to table, the Chair being occupied by land's greatest son. At the reformation of the Scotch Church Calvanism rode rough-shod over Scotland, and although the very antipodes of Romanism, the Calvinist doctrines and dogmas were as overbearing as the Church of Rome. The Presbytery of Ayr condemned and burned Maggie Osborne at the Cross of Ayr for being a witch; but in the days of Burns a new light was beginning to spread, education was beginning to show front, students of a later school with more liberal ideas were beginning to fill the pulpits and to diffuse more modern doctrines, to the great horror of the old light party; The dinner was served up in profusion and and a great commotion amongst the congrega-first-rate style by Mr. W. Sloman, proprietor tions was the consequence. Burns, who was of the hotel, and the large room in which it a hundred years in advance of the age, took up took place was tastefully decorated with flags the cudgels, and with his satirical pen laid the and other devices. The exterior of the buildold light party prostrate in the dust; but the ing was likewise embellished by designs in gas, sting adhered to the cloth, and its venom pro- including the name of "Burns," and numerous duced gangrene that has cankered ever since, flags were suspended from each available posiand these very respectable gentlemen, with too tion. The guests assembled by the call of the few exceptions, have been unwearied in their "Pibroch," in the master hand of Serjeant slanders, whether in the pulpit or on the plat- Wright, Royal Artillery, and during dinner, form, descanting most uncharitably upon the Messrs. Harrop, Browning, Buckland, Brown, moral character of the poet, but forgetting the and Jackson, of the Royal Artillery Band, immorality of the age in which he lived, or, played a variety of favourite airs, principally perhaps, with worse taste, forgetting the sublime Scotch, and well-suited to the occasion. Full saying of their great Master to the accusers of justice having been done to the repast, the cloth the woman taken in adultery. But honour to was removed, and the usual loyal toasts given, whom honour is due. I heard the Rev. Mr. after which the Chairman said, we meet to do Cuthill of Ayr, an eminent divine, a number of honour to the memory of one who was gifted whose works have been published, and form with genius, instinct with power; of one whose services to literature were rare and manifold; whose melodious strains are associated with thoughts that perish not, and who gave "a local habitation and a name" to observances and traditions identified with customs and habits that to a certain extent will ever remain. Peasant as he was, he had the true nobility of soul. Sprung from the ranks, he ever identified himself with his fellows, and became emphatically the bard of his order; and "walking in glory and in joy behind his plough upon the mountain side," he embodied the watchwords of independence in deathless verse. He inculcated in a careless and hollow age the great lesson of true sympathy-" Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep." To the rich he gave a key to the hearts of the poor; to the poor he did yeoman service as a champion with the high and the mighty of the earth. And who can tell how much of that honourable and honest pride, that sturdy, quiet self-reliance which is said to mark our national character, may have been strengthened by the influence of the better part of his writings? Tried by quantity, our poet's works bulk little; but just as we know that there are single sentences far out-valuing many authors all entire, so tried by quality, we find that he condensed the thoughts of volumes into a few expressions, and that from his verse there rises a strain of music, sweet, tender and joyous. To him Nature opened wide her rich stores, and many a lesson from her book did he learn. And if we remember, as who that ever heard his name can forget it, that his sun went down while it was yet noon, that clouds of blighted hopes and vain regrets darkened it, as it set in sorrow and in sadness; or, to use his own pathetic words "The sun is setting beyond the white waves, And time is setting wi' me" But when he speaks with these sympathies. directly to man, and of man, how manly is the sentiment, and how arousing, elevating and hopeful are the well-known words, in which he vindicates the dignity, ay, the majesty of manhood. The words form part of the proverbs of our common English tongue "The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that." Would it be believed that this song, perhaps the best known of our poet's writings, was not permitted at the time it was written to be sung in the streets of our Scottish towns. His age knew it not-it was left to ours to see; nay, should we not be grateful that we feel it already; "It's coming yet, for a' that, That man to man the warl o'er (Cheers.) Then the inimitable humour, embodied in the happiest expressions-— "Last May a braw wooer cam' down the lang glen, And sair wi' his love he did deave me." And you all know how his scenes of life amongst the lowly are adorned with the same broadtelling humour sliding into the most exquisite pathos. But in addition to this rare humour, we have in the "Cottar's Saturday Night" a far higher element; we see the hallowed influences of piety cheering and sanctifying toil; we see the priest-like father, we hear the bibletaught peasant, giving lessons of guidance to his family, far out-vying all other knowledge. We hear the counsel given that in days gone by tended to make our nation prosperous among the prosperous; that made our countrymen renowned for enterprise; that made our forefathers firm in endurance, and ardent for the right, and fearing God feared nought besides. May counsel such as William Burns, the good honest man, gave to his family, long be given at the firesides of the homes of Scotland and England, for by such counsels alone will our country be respected abroad, and happiness increased at home. (Cheers.) I must not close without adverting to one other most marked feature in our poet's character and writings, his love of country. Hear how touchingly he gives utterance to his early feelings, and they remained with him to the last. He had and this while he was only in his thirty-eighth year, what might he not have done, had health of body and mind been his, with the ten talents which had been given him? But the valley of the shadow of death stretched out before him, and his work was done. Our country and our literature owe a debt of gratitude to his memory. His love-songs equal, if they do not surpass, any songs in any language; nor are they confined to youthful affection or to feelings cherished in the spring-time of life, but they refer to the ever-constant, never wearied love of parents to their children, to the love of husband and wife, to steadfast enduring love, one day of which is worth a whole half-century of blind adoration. (Cheers.) Then how warm are our poet's sympathies for whatever has life, and how beautifully does his intense apprecia-wha tion and admiration of natural scenery mingle "A wish, that to my latest hour How he sang that song of patriotism, "Scots hae wi' Wallace bled," we all feel in our hearts, for words fail to express it. Truly, men will not willingly let it die. We think we are doing our duty in meeting to commemorate the hundredth anniversary of the birth of Robert Burns. He was one of the men without whom a country has no history, or at least no history worth reading. Alas, that he was neglected in life. He asked for bread and they gave him a stone. But such lot is not confined to Burns or Scotland. He has a brotherhood in his genius, and a brotherhood in his misfortunes. May the present age be enabled to foster genius in a spirit otherwise than those gone before. His strains are heard amongst the Isles of the Southern Seas, in the gold diggings of Australia, and in the rising townlands of New Zealand-on the continent of South Africa, as in the continent of North America, his name is a household word. The soldier who has gone out from amongst us to restore "gentle peace" on the burning plains of India, over which "wild war's deadly blast was blawn," will think on the "banks and braes o' bonny Doon," while he stands by the Ganges or its tributaries. The "lea-riggs" and "corn-riggs" of his native country will, in his mind, contrast most favourably with the rice fields of the East, and he will think of him who sixty-two years ago was laid in the churchyard of St. Michael's, in Dumfries. Gentlemen, we drink "To his Deathless Memory." crushes; we, therefore, who so often witness the depressing influence of poverty, must look with admiration upon this noble gathering in honour of the birthday of the ploughboy poet, (cheers), who, while struggling with difficulties and contending with bitter disappointment, could present the world with poetry that will ever touch the great chords that vibrate in the human breast. (Loud cheers.) The members of my profession often feel the unpleasantness of exposing error and false professions; it is natural, therefore, that we should join heartily in a celebration in honour of the unequalled song writer, who, lashing meanness, hypocrisy, and pretensions, could become the idol of his native land, and as an author, a honour and an ornament to his country. (Cheers.) I read in the newspapers of church dignitaries being connected with this movement, and I am exceedingly proud of it, as it shows openly to the world that they know how to think kindly of the man, and how to judge admiringly of the author. The term of his life was only thirtyseven years, and during this short span he raised such a pyramid to his fame as the rude hand of time will never destroy. (Cheers.) The CHAIRMAN then proposed the toast of the evening-" The Memory of Burns," and concluded an elegant and appropriate address as follows:-He was proud to find that in this district there were so many to be found who could appreciate the Poet of his Land. (Cheers.) He was proud, too, to know that no less than The toast was drunk amidst breathless silence, the pathetic eloquence of the Chairman having evidently produced a deep sensation. The company having spent an evening of much enjoy-six hundred and twenty-one bards competed for ment, separated at an early hour in the morning. WREXHAM.-A banquet took place in the Town-Hall, which was magnificently decorated for the occasion. The dinner was at six o'clock. H. Robertson, Esq., Shrewsbury, President; Messrs. W. Low, John Lewis, A. Mackintosh, J. Bury, John Jonnes, solicitor, and R. W. Johnston, Vice-Presidents. Grace was said by the Rev. W. Davies, senior curate. When dinner was over and the cloth removed, the President, after giving the usual loyal and patriotic toasts, gave "The Bishop and Clergy of the Diocese," coupling with it the name of the Rev. W. Davies. (Loud cheers.) Mr. DAVIES returned thanks, and said, I am greatly pleased with the reception given to this toast. I am gratified to find that the Lord Bishop and the Clergy of the Diocese are worthy of consideration in this social gathering, and that their work is recognised by such an influential company. The members of my profession have better opportunities than most men to form a correct judgment upon the withering influence of poverty. Often have we to mourn over intellects it dwarfs, and souls it the honour of this day at the Crystal Palace. (Cheers.) Now, why was it after all that Burns was so much admired? We have had greater poets, and greater generals who have received popular applause; but no ploughman was ever so honoured as he was that day in every country where the Anglo-Saxon tongue was spoken. How was it, then? Because Burns spoke from the heart-and spoke his own experience which is the experience of all everywhere who are called upon to work. His soul was full of patriotism and love of independence, and he touched nothing with his pen that he did not adorn. The President then concluded by repeating Burns's Prayer at the end of "The Cottar's Saturday Night," for his country, and its peace and prosperity. The toast was drunk in solemn silence. Song, "Auld Langsyne,” by Mr. T. Jones, the company joining chorus. After many other speeches and songs, the proceedings were brought to a close by Mr. Jonnes proposing "The Poem." Upon the conclusion of the proceedings, it was confessed on every hand that a more successful dinner had never been held in Wrexham. It was well got up and well sustained to the last. IRELAND. ARMAGH. This interesting event was Chairman, I rise with great reluctance to reply celebrated in this city on Tuesday evening to the toast of the night. I do this, believe with considerable éclat. A numerous and high- me, with great reluctance; but having origily respectable company, principally the poet's nated this festival here, and finding the warm. countrymen, joined by several respectable Irish- feeling with which you and my many friends men, supped together in the Charlemont Arms present co-operated, I could not, while all othHotel, the worthy proprietor of which estab-ers declined the task, refuse to assume an oflishment catered for them in a superior and fice which I know I am utterly incompetent to liberal manner. There were nearly one hun-fill. To do full justice to the toast which you, dred present. The cloth having been removed, and thanks returned, and after the usual preliminary toasts, the CHAIRMAN said-Gentlemen, the next toast is the one which has brought us all together to-night. I will not attempt to place before you the claims of the immortal Burns. The fact of this meeting this evening, assembled while every town and village in England and Scotland is likewise engaged in commemorating the centenary of his birth, is ample evidence that his merit is not local, and that his genius is appreciated by the world. (Hear.) I will be followed by gentlemen better qualified to do justice to Scotland and Burns, and, therefore I shall give you "The Memory of the Immortal Burns." (Drank in solemn silence.) Mr. EDWARD GARDNER rose and said-Mr. gentlemen, have so solemnly and so becomingly received, would require powers equal to those the Bard himself possessed; and I will venture to assert at all the similar festivals now being celebrated in the old world, and to be celebrated in a few hours more in the new, there will not be an address which will do full justice to the memory of this incomparable poet and man. What an evidence of the mighty influence and worth of genius, to know that all over the globe where Christianity prevails, this 25th day of January is devoted to the memory of one man. Never was there such an eventso universal-so sublime-so indicative of the progress of right feelings-so demonstrative of the mighty advance of humane and ennobling thought. You, Mr. Chairman, and you gentlemen, his fellow-countrymen here present, have reason to be proud of your being natives of that portion of these glorious Islands which gave birth to Burns; and while I honour you for your national feelings, and give your country full credit for the many, for the very many great and good, wise and enlightened men it has produced; while I can trace through her history those many circumstances in her position-her institutions and her laws, which have fashioned and formed her people, and made them what they are; while I can see that her rugged surface-her lofty mountains-her lovely lakes and rivers, and her magnificent friths, have not only created a self-reliant and energetic people, but developed from the earliest periods a high poetic temperament, yet I too claim my share in the fame of Burns upon even higher and holier grounds. I claim Burns on the ground of our common humanity. Though born in Scotland, Burns belongs to the human race, and with all our imperfections, with all our ignorances and weaknesses, is not man when endeavouring to discharge the duties of his position when influenced by the nobler attributes of his nature-when giving full scope to the mighty powers of his intellect, and to the active benevolence of his aspirations-and above all, to what is due to Him who has called us into being, and to all his creatures, is not man himself in action and "In apprehension like a God?" Burns had the good fortune to be blessed with a truly pious and enlightened father, who was neither a hypocrite nor a pretender-whose sole object was the education of his sons, in order that they might be able to take an independent and respectable position in life. His mother-and I believe no man has ever distinguished himself in life who had not a wise and virtuous mother-his mother was rich in the current literary lore of her country; and with the aid of a credulous and superstitious servant, whose stories of supernatural beings were exhaustless, she no doubt laid the stores of fancy in his soul which, matured by education, judgment, and keen observation, burst forth upon the world in those sweet strains and divine poesy which touch and ennoble the heart and feelings of all mankind. I think it right we should inform ourselves on the origin of the mental development of our great men, who have been our lights and guides, and who have added so much to the pleasures and happiness of mankind. Let us not be deceived, or deceive by idle surmises, and look upon what is called genius as something magical or miraculous, and thus overlook the sole foundation on which real excellence can be built-namely, labour, perseverance, knowledge, and untiring and unceasing industry. I will not attempt to trace the life of Burns-nor am I aware of any biography which treats of what is alone worthy of being known. I mean the inner life-the life of the soul. And what are all the lives which have been written of this incomparable man-simple details which are only so far true of him, as they would be true of hundredsbut which give no insight into the workings of the soul, which in Burns must indeed have been glorious and striking. To enter into this I would not have the folly to presume-but I will now speak of him as he presents himself to my view, or, to speak more correctly, as I view him. I love Burns as a man. I love him for the genial feelings he possessed, which invited as it were the "children to come unto him." I love him for his sympathies with the poor and the lowly, and for the ardour with which he entered into and contributed to their sports and pastimes, alas, too "few and far between!" I love him for that devotion which he felt and immortalized for the last, best, and happiest gift to man, without whose solace and whose support life itself would indeed be a miserable waste. I honour him for his superiority to the tinsel and frivolities of mere fashion and absurd pretence, and for that glorious self-reliant and high-minded independence which characterized his every thought and every action, and made him pursue the promptings of the nobility of his soul "uncaring consequences." I reverence him for that moral firmness which protected him from everything that was mean, and would not suffer the kindness of even friendship to interpose her aid though steeped in the depths of poverty. I esteem him for that consciousness of his own worth which made him the living and unfaltering guardian of the honour and fame of Robert Burns. Though courted and feted by the nobles-with whom he bore himself with conscious dignity, but without sycophancy or presumption-his life was a living illustration that "The rank is but the guinea stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that." I love Burns for his freedom from all sectarian prejudices, which enabled him to look, in spite of sect or parties, or country, upon all mankind as brothers; and I love him for that true and holy feeling which told him that the Creator was our bountiful and considerate and merciful Father "who delighteth to forgive." I love Burns for the pleasures he conferred upon my early years, when with all the generous and noble emotions of youth, I dwelt with rapture upon his poetry, and drunk in those feelings and views which would make life not altogether useless, and which would lead us to yearn for the rights, the enlightenment, the privileges and the happiness of all mankind. I will say nothing of the weaknesses of Burns, for these ought to be and will be mercifully considered by all who calmly and impartially view their own past lives, and who know how far short the best are from perfection. "What's done, we partly may compute, but know not what's resisted." I will not further occupy your time or delay you from hearing those who have undertaken the task of entering into a review of the literary labours of this great man; and with this poor eloge upon the memory of him whose birth after the interval of a century we have honoured ourselves in celebrating, - I thank you with all my heart for the considerate kindness with which I have been heard. The Chairman gave-"Burns as a song writer." |